


(That’s the way it crumbles.  Cookie-wise.)

by softly (alexenglish)



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Red String of Fate, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/softly
Summary: I don’t believe each person has just one true love, but sometimes we don’t have enough time to find another.





	(That’s the way it crumbles.  Cookie-wise.)

**Author's Note:**

> [a softer world project](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/asofterworld)

 

He’s thought about it a lot.

The wedding he might have with Harry.

Outside, some place that was green and lovely with enough space to fit everyone Harry would inevitably end up inviting. After he stopped pretending he wanted a small wedding, of course. Harry didn’t want a small anything. He’d gleefully invite everyone they’ve ever met to witness the holy matrimony. Niall would complain, but he’d like it and Harry would know it.

They’d do really simple colors. Springy, like pale green and pale pink and a yellow that Niall wouldn’t hate looking at. Boutonnieres with a white rose, leafy green, and an orange ribbon for Niall’s wedding party. Something gaudy for Harry’s, no doubt, maybe glittery. Liam, Louis, and Zayn would insist on having one of both.

It’d be a short service during which Harry wouldn’t be able to stop crying, and Niall would valiantly pretend he didn’t shed a tear during their vows. An endless reception, a dance floor surrounded by fairy lights. One of the boys would write a song for them to slow dance to.

Their wedding night would feel like the first time, even though they had tumbled into bed so many times before, because this was something new -- shagging whilst they were _husbands_.

Harry wouldn’t be able to stop saying it. ‘Husband’ this and ‘husband’ that, and Niall would humor him. They’d have a happily ever after.

This isn’t that wedding, though.

This is a wedding in a big nondenominational church. White flowers, and cream ribbons, and deep purple accents. The reception is at a real life ballroom. There’s going to be a full live orchestra. It’s big, but big in a different way than Niall would have imagined for Harry.

Instead of walking down the aisle together in a very nontraditional way that Niall would insist upon, Harry will be walking towards someone -- someone else.

Instead of fiance, Niall is best man, watching Harry fuss with his purple bowtie in the mirror.

In Niall’s fantasy, Harry wouldn’t bother with a tie -- bow or not. In Niall’s fantasy, he’d have his shirt unbuttoned, showing the sexy line of his throat and his necklaces and the hair that finally darkened on his chest properly. In Niall’s fantasy, he wouldn’t even know about that until he saw Harry at the alter. Bad luck to see the groom before the wedding, innit?

But in reality, Niall’s here. In the room with Harry as he gets ready for his wedding. Best man, and nothing else.

Reality curls up hot and heavy like a coal in Niall’s gut and he’s sinking, sinking.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous,” Harry says, exhaling heavily and drawing back from the mirror to grin at Niall.

The smile he gives Niall reminds Niall of being a teenager. Reminds him of watching the exhilaration on Harry’s face when he scored a goal during a kickabout. Like the look on his face when they successfully stole a bottle of whiskey out of his mum’s cabinet to split by the railroad tracks. Like the way he smiled after Niall kissed him for the first time -- blushing red, 16, and carefree.

Everything Niall ever wanted in another person right there in front of him. Great green eyes and curls, sweet disposition with untameable ambition. Clever, but ditzy. Kind and selfish, thoughtful and careless. Everything all at once, Niall’s whole world: Harry Styles.

The type of person who belonged to Niall.

“You will be,” Niall says, smiling and straightening up. He wants to walk over and mess with Harry’s tie, push back his hair, touch his smooth jaw. But Niall doesn’t have a reason to, so he stays put.

“Yeah, shit, I will.” Harry’s beyond giddy. Eyes bright, dimples deep. He’s so excited he’s practically vibrating. Niall loves him so much, he’s so happy for Harry. He doesn't know how he can be on the outside looking in and still be so happy for Harry, but he is.

“S’ok though,” Niall says. “I reckon that’s normal.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says, reaching up to push his hair out of his face. It’s too short, there’s no curls or bangs, but he always does it anyway, always messes with his hair. A nervous tick that’s lasted for years and years now, ever since Niall met him.

There’s a flash of red around his pinky, a string that trails the back of his hand. Niall looks away, trying not to see it.

“Nothing to be worried about, right?”

There’s something in Harry’s tone that turns Niall’s stomach. When he glances up, finds Harry watching him, mouth twisting.

“It’ll be _fine_ ,” Niall insists. He does go over then, so he can reach out and touch Harry’s arm, gives him a reassuring smile. “Don’t get cold feet.”

“My feet are so warm,” Harry jokes, laughing at himself. “Hot, even.”

“Good,” Niall says, trailing his hand down Harry’s arm so he can squeeze Harry’s hand. The string is there, bright red like a rose. Niall makes himself look at it, feels like he needs to.

He’s always been able to see them. Tangled lines tying people together, souls tethered. Red strings that exist neither here nor there. Can’t be touched or tripped over. Usually can’t be seen, but Niall can see them.

Not everyone has a string, but when they do, the person they’re tied to is never that far off. Most of them don’t know. They go about their lives, circling and circling and circling until the inevitable collision.

Soulmates.

He’s rubbing his thumb over Harry’s pinky without realizing it.

“I know I said I’d never ask,” Harry says, voice dropping so it’s almost a whisper even though they’re the only ones in the room. “I’ve never wanted to know, but…”

Niall and Harry dated twice.

After the first kiss when they were 16, a couple of years of adolescent bliss. Niall fell in love with Harry on a blanket laid out in a field under a sky full of stars, the first time they shagged. Terrible and messy and everything Niall could ever hope for, hands locked together so tightly his bones ached. Kissing Harry through every moan, and Niall swore they tasted like sugar.

Fell in love with Harry every time he climbed through Niall’s window at night just to curl up against Niall’s front and sleep. Every time he joined Niall’s family for dinner and insisted on wearing a shirt that buttoned. Every time he made a stupid joke, and laughed so hard he choked on air, and sang louder than the radio.

Then uni happened and Niall let him go. Driven apart by whatever insecurity made them want to sleep with other people to get the _full_ uni experience. Whatever insecurity made them hate the distance, fight about it. They let it go, but it always felt alright, like they’d come back to each other.

And they did.

22 and back home, ready to be dumb again. Falling back into each other like they never even left. Like they still knew all each other’s secrets. Every touch so familiar, hands and lips. Picking up old conversations right in the middle, inside jokes and old arguments. Mixing old habits with new habits. Domestic.

Too domestic, Niall reckons. They got boring. _Niall_ got boring. There had to be more, Harry would say. Still young and untamed, seeking something Niall couldn’t give him. So Niall let him go. It felt less alright that time, but Niall still thought they’d come back to each other. They stayed best friends, stayed _close_. All they were doing was circling.

Until Harry met Nick.

“Harry,” Niall says, warningly.

Until Harry met Nick, and fell in love. That wild love that fills up a heart and leaves it gasping for breath. The fun, fantastic love that’s bright and sparking. The kind that's in every nook and cranny, overwhelming in the best way. The kind of love he and Niall had at 16.

The kind of love Niall still has for Harry.

“I just,” Harry huffs self-consciously. There's a soft look in his eyes, directed at Niall. Niall imagines it's wistful, imagines Harry's thinking about them and that first kiss, and what they could have been if Niall hadn't let Harry go. He's not, but Niall imagines it anyway.

“I want to know if I’m making the right choice. I’m so happy, I _am_. I just want this to be right.”

The red string loops around Harry’s pinky, falls over the back of his hand, down to the floor where it loops and curls over itself --

“I love him so much, Niall. I really do."

\-- and ties around Niall’s pinky.

"I'm terrified of getting it wrong."

Niall has always been able to see it. Their string.

It lead him to Harry. The first day they met, he followed the string through the school halls until he collided with this boy. Everything Niall would ever want in another person right there in front of him. Great green eyes and curls. Everything all at once, the person who would become Niall’s whole world.

“I’m Harry Styles,” he’d said, and when he held out his hand there was the end of Niall’s string, looped around his pinky.

Harry looks at Niall now, eyes wide and earnest and sincere. And that's the worst part, Niall reckons. How much he means it. How much he loves Nick. Maybe more than he loves Niall. Probably more than he loves Niall, all things considered.

They talked about it. Once. Really drunk. The sad kind of drunk that both got them fucked out of their heads. Sat next to each other on the floor, passing a wine bottle back and forth. They were celebrating Harry's engagement, and Harry was sad. 

"Did you ever think..." Harry had said, and Niall knew what he was going to say before he said it, eyes on the heap of red string between them. He remembers how much he wanted to cry in that moment, the feeling hot and sharp behind his eyes as Harry whispered, "Did you ever think it was going to be us?"

"Yeah," he admitted. He'd thought about it a lot. The wedding he might have with Harry.  _Still do_ , Niall wanted to say, but he didn't. "But look at you. In love and shite."

There was a time Niall thought they’d come back to each other. 

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning. "I'm happy. Yeah."

He didn't know if he thought that anymore.

He still doesn't, Niall admits to himself, as he lets their pinkies brush, pretending he can feel the string against his skin. He can’t even touch them. He’s the only one who can see them. His heart is pounding so hard that it hurts.

“You don’t have to like, tell me,” Harry says, biting his lip. He takes Niall’s hand and slides their fingers together, completely oblivious to the way the string tangles between them -- red red _red_. “But I’d like to know if it’s right.”

Harry loves Nick so much.

“Yeah,” Niall says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I think… I think it’s right, petal.”

Harry beams at him, absolutely delighted, and tugs him in -- tugs the string, tugs his heart, tugs him _in_ and holds him close, face pressed to Niall’s neck. He kisses Niall’s pulse, soft and dry.

When Niall squeezes his eyes shut, all he can see is red.

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/165038950077/thats-the-way-it-crumbles-cookie-wise)


End file.
